A Curse And A Riddle
by Cookie Seller On The Dark Side
Summary: "I am talking to Harry Potter about my Death, while another me is some floors above me. Hm. I do believe this is Two-Timing." A time-travel fic, Tom Riddle/OC. (I am here... but I am not. I can see... but I cannot. I can hear... but it means nothing. I can feel, and that's all I need).


**AU.**

**A Curse And A Riddle.**

"Hello Harry," greeted Headmaster Dumbledore quietly.

A lanky boy with ruffled black hair looked out from behind a column with the brilliant green eyes of his mother. "You called me, sir?" He asked, confused.

"Ah, yes," sighed the older man. "I think there's someone willing to see you, Harry."

"Why, sir?" The boy questioned curiously. He then shuddered. "Is it another Ministry Official, because if it is, could you please tell him I don't want to become some sort of advertiser for them. Please?"

Dumbledore laughed, but it didn't meet his eyes. "No, Harry. Mr. Rodrick Flint and his employees will not be visiting again."

"Then who?" He said, bewildered.

"Who?" The Headmaster mused, rubbing the golden ring on his index finger distractedly. "I cannot say."

Harry inwardly shrugged, as he was well used to Dumbledore's vague replies. "Is he here?"

"He?" Repeated Dumbledore, eyes twinkling a little. "No, she isn't here." _She is and she isn't, Harry, but I am sure you will figure that out_ shortly.

"Then where?"

Dumbledore smiled. "You know the room of which you require, Harry." The teacher turned away, patting Fawkes gently on his head. The bird burst into flames, but Dumbledore just gave a tired chuckle.

He slowly swiveled around to face Harry once more.

"Oh," he said. "Are you still here?"

And Harry speedily exited the office.

* * *

He stood in front of the bare wall, opposite the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy.

_I need to see someone._

He thought about Dumbledore's unclear replies.

_Someone to give me the answers._

The boy took a step forward, as a large arched door formed against the wall. He warily went through.

The room looked far different from the multiple times he'd entered it with Dumbledore's Army. The big, Romanesque room had morphed into a smaller room. There was a rather empty book shelf in the corner- titles like _"The Curse" "Killed Off"_ and "_Helen and Dom- The 1st recorded dooming"_ jumped out at him.

Moving paintings were hung up all around him, and Harry flinched back when he saw the familiar face of his enemy smiling at him. The boy, with black hair like his own and dark onyx eyes, had possessed Ginny, his best friend's sister, in her first year. The young boy grinning and looking around with unseeing eyes was a murderer. But the portrait of the killer made no sound, and the boy was blind to Harry.

A large chair appeared under Harry, and he toppled into it.

"Hello Harry," he heard, for the second time. He turned to see a luminous figure walking over to him.

"Rowan Claw?"

* * *

The ghost nodded, once black braids blowing in a breeze Harry couldn't see or hear.

"But I saw you today- you were in the Great Hall! You were enlarging Snape's ears!"

She smiled softly, like it was a distant memory he was reminding her of.

"Are you a ghost?"

She shook her head. "A memory of some sorts."

Harry blanched. He could remember the last 'Memory' he'd met.

"Not fully a ghost," she explained, taking his silence for befuddlement.

"But... are you dead?"

"Me?" She asked. "I'm dead, yes. But the Rowan you saw at Breakfast today isn't. She's up in her dorms, reading a letter. Tomorrow she's going to be called up to the Headmaster's office, and she's going to disappear."

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "Was it Voldemort?" He quizzed immediately, not even asking how two Rowans could exist.

She gave him another eery grin. "Of some sorts," she said again. She exhaled tiredly, that is, if memories can be tired. "I suppose you'd like an explanation- you need someone to, oh, how did you put it earlier? To give you the answers, no?"

Harry inclined his head. "How are you here? Can the room bring people back to life?"

"Ah, I had a feeling you'd ask that. No, Harry. It can't even support a memory." As Harry opened his mouth to argue, she went on. "But I'm not just any memory. I bled in this room, Harry. It linked me... and the room of come and go. The Room is just that. A room. My blood still lies here, dry, and hidden under the glamor. That's how I'm here."

Before he could speak, she continued. "Dumbledore asked me to tell you what happened to me. He said it would give you a greater understanding of your nemesis."

"Lord Voldemort," Harry said.

Her eyes flashed. "Don't call him 'Lord', Harry. Don't even lower yourself down to the Death Eater's standards." Her eyes softened a little. "And he wasn't always Voldemort, you know. He used to be a boy named Tom Riddle. In fact, he was a little bit like you."

Harry writhed back. He didn't appreciate the comparison.

But Rowan didn't mind. "Harry," she began.

"Yes," he gritted out, still upset.

"Have you ever heard of The Curse Of The Two Houses?"

* * *

"Once, a really, _really_, long time ago, there was a woman named Rowena and a man called Salazar. They worked for the same school, and soon enough they fell in love.

"But Salazar was rash and easily angered. He came to the conclusion that muggleborns didn't deserve to attend_ his_ school. The other founders, Rowena, Godric and Helga, were quick to tell him that is their school, too. And that muggleborns were more than worthy. But Salazar grew more and more irritant. Eventually he realized that he would be leaving the school, and soon. So, as one last act of revenge, he apparated to a foreign country and bought a small snakeling which, with a few curses, became one of the first basilisks. He hid it in a chamber he had built long before, and sealed it shut, insuring only his heir could open it and release his monster. Unfortunately for him, Rowena came across him with a book on monsters, and some notes on his basilisk. She easily put the pieces together, and confronted him on it. Salazar, furious, left sooner than even he had anticipated.

"Rowena was heartbroken. If to spite him, or if only to spite herself, she married and bore a child, whom she named Helena. Salazar himself had a son only a year older than Helena, and though _he_ had sired a child, he was vexed by young Helena's existance.

"He sent his son, whom he named Harzor- which in the ancient wizard language of Fleurtin, Har means Bringer and Zor means Regret... Regret Bringer- and Harzor travelled to the small Wizarding town of Mont. Salazar gave Harzor a vial of Red Moon water and told him to put it into Helena's drink.

"But upon Harzor's arrival Rowena Ravenclaw welcomed him. She was famous in Mont, and he soon understood why. Rowena was kind, but stern. Smart, but not judging. Questioning, but not rude. And then he met her daughter. They had met once, while attending Hogwarts. But only later did he recognize her- and by then it was too late.

"But rather then Helena taking the fatal sip, Rowena did. It is believed she recognized Harzor to be her once-love's son, and when she, the wisest witch of her age, saw her daughter's drink sparkle with the sapphire Red Moon Water and understood Salazar's plan, grabbed it and drank. I guess she wanted to save her daughter, and maybe to just... give up. Helen also drank some, but so little that it only gave her hallucinations, but it eventually drove her to insanity. Yet the poison was sour, which prolonged Rowena's dying. She seemed alright for a month or so, but a few days before she gave into illness, Helena fled. Rowena... she became desperate. She was on her deathbed. She pleaded to Harzor- "Save Lena, please I beg of you!". "Lena?" Asked Harzor, recalling the name. Then he remembered. Lena Ravenclaw. That Ravenclaw girl he'd fallen for. He finally knew exactly what he had done, and immediately set off to find Helena. "Lena," he said when he found her. "I am so sorry, so very, _very_ sorry" and he asked her to return with Helena refused. And Harzor, who had inherited his father's temper, lashed out at her. Helena screamed, and he burst back into reality. And there, in front of him, his love stared at him in horror, then slowly looked down at herself. There was a large, silver dagger protruding from her stomach. She fell to her knees, and died instantly. Harzor fell into misery in the minutes following his kill, and took his own knife and killed himself.

"By the time Salazar heard of his son's demise, he had heard also of Rowena Ravenclaw's. He ordered his son's body to be returned to Wales with him. Mournfully, he removed the ring of his family from Harzor's cold hand. But Salazar had one last shock. Coating the ring was dried blood, half of which was black, the rest of it- red as a rose. The two bloods had merged, and the poisonous Red Moon Water in Helena's red blood sparked something with Harzor's dark black blood that Salazar didn't understand. But he learned of another boy, of Slytherin blood. He had no first name, and Slytherin knew it to be his only sister, Aramei's, son. He named the child Rowan.

"And Rowan then met a girl named Wim, fell for her, but had to leave for a year for unknown reasons. When Rowan returned, Wim had married another man. Upset and angry, Rowan killed her. But he soon found out that she'd been forced into an arranged marriage, and had fought with her parents to wait for him. Wim was of Ravenclaw blood.

"Dom Slytherin. Marisa Ravenclaw. Dom was so cruel to his wife that she ate deadly Morstern Berries.

"Sal Quake. Quina Ravenclaw. Quina drowned when Sal locked her in the bottom cabin of a boat that crashed.

"Aran Wils. Silk Maran. Aran was a necromancer and Silk was accused of the crimes he had commited. She was sent to Azkaban and later died there.

"Zire Wils. Flora Chadwick. After Zire failed to find his ancestor's Basilisk, he bought his own. Flora came into his room to give him some tea and looked into the young basilisk's eyes.

"Xavier Tomkin-"

"Wait," interrupted Harry, puzzled. His face was tinged green. "What have all of those people got to do with anything?"

"Oh, they have everything to do with this, Harry. All of the men were descendants of Slytherin, and the women of Ravenclaw."

Harry blinked, but comprehension quickly dawned on him. "You... you mentioned a Curse," he said, tentatively.

She smiled at him. "Yes. Well done Harry. When Helena and Harzor's tainted blood merged together on the powerful ring, it pulled the ring's bearer to Ravenclaws. All the bearers were of Slytherin descent. But the ring, thought awe-inspiring and magical, had a dark core. It created a curse, and I'm guessing you can guess the outcome, Harry." She looked at him expectantly.

He remembered what she'd said. "All the Ravenclaw girls... they all died because of the Slytherin gits- I mean, guys. The curse caused that?"

She sighed sadly, "yeah."

"But what has a curse got to do with destroying Voldemort?"

She looked up at him. "T- Riddle was Slytherin's last heir, Harry."

"Yeah, but Dumbledore would've known if there were any Ravenclaws left..." He blinked at the small, weak grin she wore. "Wait... Rowan Claw? _Ravenclaw?_"

She nodded miserably.

"Was your mum..." but she was already shaking her head. His eyes finally widened with cognizance. "No, you... You knew Riddle. But how?"

"Tonight, Harry, I am going to receive a letter, regarding the details of my mother's death."

Harry started, ready to exclaim for her to go save her mother before it's too late, but her expression says that it would do nothing.

"You see, the curse is wise, with Ravenclaw blood supporting it. Voldemort lived longer then most, and the curse knew he would. My grandmother was unable to attain his interest, and so the curse killed her off. By the time my mother was eligible, he was far past it. So, today, the day before I meet Riddle, the curse murders my mother. It has been cheated of two, but, as you can see," she gestured towards herself. "It got me in the end."

"Can't you save yourself?" Harry said, helplessly.

Her eyes were wistful, but she disagreed. "No."

"I'm sorry," Harry said.

"Don't be." And she added, faintly, "I'm not."

There was a silence, and Harry's chair flickered like a hologram.

Finally, Rowan glanced up at him, with a doleful expression, but she gave a forced, weak, beam.

"This next part may be harder to explain, Harry. So, enjoy the show."

And suddenly Harry's chair had disappeared, and he was falling

falling

falling

_falling_.

The room changed, morphing into something recognizable. Some blurred, lacking in color objects appeared- a large desk, some chairs, a cage, a phoenix, a pensieve, multiple portraits of snobbish headmasters, and finally, a shelf with a disgruntled looking old hat.

"Hello," came a voice, and Harry whirled around to see a somewhat-holographic Dumbledore. "Miss Claw. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

* * *

**A/N- I don't mind if i continue or ditch this. I know it probably isn't historically correct to the books, but this is just written for fun. It's a little short 'cos this is just like a prologue, and yes, this is a Tom Riddle/OC. I'm fine with criticism, as long as it's not flames. If Rowan's too Mary Sue, tell me. I haven't really made her more than a narrator yet. This is my first new story on Fanfic in _MONTHS_, but I'm trying. I've read far more than I've written these last few months, so, well, sorry about my incredible laziness. **

**Thanks (or, as I'm in France, Merci)**

**- Cookie Seller.**


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